17. Audrey
AUDREY
PLAYLIST: LAST RESORT – PAPA ROACH
“Ready?” asks Cass as we turn into Wall Street.
Nikki and I are behind her in the Mustang. The construction truck with Jackson and Ahmed inside is already parking—they’re coordinating and watching from the sky with two drones.
Blair and the rest of the inner circle are lurking in the surrounding areas, ready for the call.
“Ready,” I say, putting on my mask. “Nikki?”
“So fucking ready,” she says, causing a grin to appear on my face.
Nikki has grown on me in the past week because she is as insane as I am, gives no fucks about anything while also being one of the rare humans who haven’t lost their belief in magic while being the most logical person I have ever met.
She’s playful. Laughs at the smallest things.
Gazes at the moon with a grin. And somehow manages to put up with Cass on a day-to-day basis without ever losing her spark.
Something I admire very much, because Cass has been driving me up the wall so many times in the past week of planning that I refused to sit in the same car as her.
So, it’s me and Nikki and the grumpy gremlin in front of us.
Right now, however, I don’t care. Right now, adrenaline pumps through my veins.
It’s been a while since I have had something to look out for, something thrilling that excites me.
Maybe it’s the knowledge of fighting back, maybe the act of rebellion. Or, it might just be the thrill.
“Surveillance is all down outside,” says Illy.
“Coast won’t get any clearer,” says Ahmed. “You have at least an eight-minute window.”
“Roadblocks, go,” says Cass.
My heartbeat fastens.
Showtime.
Blair, Joy, and four others take on their position and close down Wall Street behind us by blocking it with their cars.
We come to a halt in front of Whitney Morgan Bank on Wall Street. The building with its massive columns stands empty in the silence of the night.
We get out.
Cass, the best shooter of us three, gets out with a crossbow and shoots a climbing line onto each of the two flag holders; Nikki and I fix the ends of the ropes to the cars with one well-handled knot.
I check the first rope.
“Let’s hope that’ll hold,” I say with a grin.
“It will,” says Cass. “Not the first time we do shit like that.”
“More concerned about the flag holders,” I say as I hang onto the rope.
“They’ll hold your featherweight,” she says. “Now get up there.”
I grin as I climb up the rope with my feet on the column. It’s fucking hard to climb up a loosely hanging rope, even with the column as support—Nikki, who is much more trained than I am, is up in less than twenty seconds and climbs up to the next entablature.
Not that I am untrained; I do most stunts for my roles myself, and I free climb in the mountains, but a rope is different—especially when attached to a very fragile-looking metal stick that generally doesn’t hold more than a flag.
I reach the first entablature, pull myself up, and then sit on the small strip, slipping off the backpack.
The feeling from up here is fucking amazing.
I pull the banner from the backpack and fix it to the metal flag holder. Then, I throw the backpack down, get up carefully, and balance over the small parapet. Nikki does the same on the other level.
“You really didn’t joke when you said you don’t need a harness,” calls Nikki down to me. She grins broadly, balancing with her banner over the higher parapet.
“Told ya,” I say and add with a chuckle, “The only time I need a harness is when I strap in.”
Nikki laughs as Cass calls from down on the street. “Can you fucking leave the chit-chat for later and hurry up?”
“Did you hear anything?” I ask Nikki to get back at Cass.
“Nope,” says Nikki, chuckling.
We both reach the end and fix our banner.
“Okay, guys, hurry up,” says Ahmed in my ear. We’re getting company. One minute out.”
I slide down the rope.
Cass loosens the knot of my rope the moment I am down.
“They’re coming,” says Ahmed, and I already see the blue and red light around the corner accompanied by the blaring sirens. “They’re harsher than expected; they just bumped into Blair.”
“I need one more second—“ says Nikki.
I look up; she’s still fixing the banner
“What’s up?” I ask.
“The eyelet ripped, knotting it right now—“
Suddenly the sound of a crash behind us.
Nikki won’t make it in time.
“Cass,” I shout, “Throw me the crossbow.”
For one infinite second I believe she’s about to fight me, but then she throws it without hesitation.
I take it.
Load it.
Turn around towards the incoming cops.
Step into the middle of the road.
“Get down now!” I shout at Nikki, aiming at the car racing up to us.
“Coming!” she shouts, and I shoot. Directly at the front of the car. It hits the grille, and the officer in it brakes. Meaning none of the other cars behind it will get through.
I load it again.
“Nikki, get into the van. Cass and I will distract. Are the exits free?”
“All clear as of now,” says Joy, with Illy confirming on her end.
Nikki slips into the van, and they’re gone.
Cops are turning up on foot with guns drawn in the safety of the surrounding parked cars.
They shout their normal sermon. I don’t care; I stand there aiming at them with the crossbow.
“Cass, you ready?”
“Ready when you are. She’s ready to roll,” she says, and I hear the Mustang gurgling.
I walk backward until I reach the Mustang; the door is open for me, she’s in neutral, waiting for me to set her free.
The Hellcat roars.
“On three,” I say and count down.
“One.”
I get ready to jump into the car.
“Two.”
I risk one glance at our work. This will hit like crazy. A smirk appears on my face.
“Three.”
I throw the crossbow in the car, shift into first gear, and then it’s what I live for: Racing.
We accelerate at full speed toward South Street.
“See you on the other side,” says Cass as we drift around the corner, she to the left, me to the right.
With that, we’re gone.
“You have seven units on tail,” says Ahmed. “Cass, they’re coming front on FDR. Addy, get lost, because you ain’t getting anywhere on the main.”
I chuckle.
“Didn’t plan to,” I say.
“How’s Brooklyn Bridge?” asks Cass.
“Too risky,” says Ahmed. “2nd up is the only choice.”
“I’m taking West,” I say as I shoot up the Avenue. “How about a flip?”
“Not necessary,” says Cass, followed by screeching tires, a roaring sound, distant crashing metal, and more roaring of the motor.
“Three out,” she says.
Badass, I think to myself.
“I’m betting 5k I can take out all mine in one go,” I say. Cass laughs. “Just because I want to see you fail.”
“I never fail,” I say in playful arrogance.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Addy,” says Jackson through the com.
“Shut your mouth, or I’ll chew off your head when I get my fingers on you,” I tell him, much to Cass’s amusement.
“Ohhh someone’s triggered,” he says.
“Nah,” I say while I press the little red button to get a bit ahead of my tail on the nearly empty West Street. “You overestimate your importance on my mood.”
Cass snorts, just as everyone else does. They all unanimously love when Jackson gets his ass served by not only Cass but me, too.
“Watch me,” I say as I am at the big crossing of Canal and West, brake, spin the wheel, and draw close donuts at full power.
Smoke appears around me after ten seconds. The only ten-second window I needed.
I spin more and more until I don’t see anything but white smoke.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Jackson. “You just gave up your window.”
“Watch and learn,” I say, stop my circling and shoot into Canal.
I drift in one motion and make a tight turn between two cars around the sharp corner, back onto West Street, completely ignoring the red light.
Right this moment, there is nothing else.
There is just me, whoever that is, the beautiful Mustang and its power.
Never have I felt as powerful as right now.
Have there been close calls in the past? Many. But this here is different. This here is like breaking free. It is risking everything I am for a version of me I cannot yet see.
The cloud of my stunt hasn’t released yet, dipping the entire crossing into thick smoke, and I just sort into the normal traffic on the other lane, heading back downtown. I turn into the next crossing street left, and from there I vanish.
“Fuck me,” says Jackson. “You’re clean. Get home.”
Home.
“Cass, you have two more,” says Ahmed. “Coming from 42nd and Park. You can’t do Manhattan or Williamsburg. They’re closing down exits.”
“On it,” she says. “I’ll take them downtown.”
“Don’t,” I say. “I’ll join you. Downtown can lock down too fast. Let’s take it Uptown.
“You don’t tell me what to do in my hood,” she says.
I roll my eyes.
“Cass, get your fucking ass Uptown, or I am going to kick it there. This is not a one-woman show; it’s teamwork.”
“Oh, so you are the one to lecture me now?” she snaps at me. “This is my family. My idea. My plan.”
The last part hits me very hard, so of course I shoot back at her, not caring that everyone can listen to our little discussion.
“And you wouldn’t be anywhere with your plan without me.”
“Of course, because we are nothing compared to wonderful, amazing Addy, the one and only, gifting us with her elitist presence,” says Cass with such a sneer in her voice that her disgust radiates through all of the city over me.
“You know what,” I say. “Go fuck yourself.”
With that, I tap on the intercom to disconnect.
I am fuming as I make my way through the city block by block. There is no getting out right now, so disappearing and blending in is it.
My phone rings.
Jackson.
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“She’s too proud to tell you, but she’s not gonna make it. They’re closing down FDR, bridges, and tunnels, all of them, scattering across the exits.”
“Where is she?”
“Five blocks in front. You have a five-second window to divert them, then it’ll close down.”
“Where did they close FDR?”
“Six blocks, no one is moving through downtown.”
I check the map.
“Delancey free?” I ask.
“Incoming, three minutes, max.”